For ten years, I was Vincent's blood bag and his sharpest blade.

I offered my rare blood to sustain his ancient power.

I offered my loyalty to secure his throne as the Vampire Lord of this territory.

I thought my devotion might earn me the eternal embrace of the turning.

Instead, I received the announcement of his marriage to Lilith.

A princess from a powerful European vampire clan.

He said it was a necessary alliance.

He said my blood was still precious.

But when the hail of sanctified silver bullets shattered the windows,he used my body as a shield, to ensure his bride remained unblemished.

That's when I knew.

I was never his lover.

I was just a consumable resource, a blood bag to be used and discarded.

So, when I was ordered to become his blood servant under the title of his fiancée, I made a call to my father.

“In seven days,” I said, my voice clear and final in the dark, “make the name Elena Rossi disappear from this city. From vampire’s world. Forever.”

In seven days, when Vincent finds his precious living blood bank gone, he realized went insane.

And this decade-long game of predator and prey… will have a new set of rules.

Vincent's fangs retracted from my neck with a cold, slick sensation.

I kept my eyes closed, riding the wave of lightheadedness that followed each feeding.

The blood brand on my collarbone.

It was the magical contract he etched into my skin a decade ago, throbbed with a familiar, possessive heat.

"Your blood tastes slightly off today," his voice, low and satisfied, cut through the dimness of his bedroom.

I opened my eyes. He was dabbing the corner of his mouth with a silk handkerchief.

The smear of crimson against his pale skin looked stark in the candlelight.

His other hand still rested possessively on my bare hip, a lingering touch from the frantic coupling that had preceded the feeding.

For Vincent, appetite was never singular.

The craving for my rare blood and the desire for my warm, willing body were intertwined parts of the same ancient hunger, a ritual of consumption he had perfected over our decade together.

He was the Vampire Lord of this city, centuries old.

I was Elena Rossi, his primary blood attendant. My family's bloodline carried a rare trait that made it uniquely potent and stabilizing for vampires of his age and power.

"Probably lack of sleep," I said, pushing myself up on the massive bed. The sheets slid down, revealing more of the marks he’d left behind..

Vincent was already moving towards his wardrobe, selecting a tailored suit for the evening's event.

"Get dressed, Elena," he said without turning. "The Grand Hall. One hour. Wear the emerald gown. You know how my clan appreciate fine appearances."

"The Grand Hall?"

My heart gave a small, treacherous leap. In ten years, he'd never allowed me at a formal clan gathering.

A wild, forbidden hope ignited in my chest, burning away the fatigue.

The Grand Hall. Beside him. Was this it?

After a decade of shadows, was he finally going to present me? To acknowledge me before the elders, to offer the Turning, to make me officially his?

"Yes. Lilith arrives tonight. The banquet is in her honor."

The air in the room grew still.

"Lilith... of the Sanguine Crest?" My voice sounded trembled.

"Princess of the Sanguine Crest, my betrothed." Vincent turned, his dark red eyes showing no emotion towards me.

"The alliance was finalized in Paris three months ago. It brings the support of several key European families under her father’s banner."

Three months. I recalled his recent "diplomatic trips" to the continent. Each return had been followed by a particularly urgent feeding.

"What am I, then?" The words left my lips before I could stop them.

Vincent approached, his cold fingers tilting my chin up. "You are my most valued blood bag, Elena. That doesn't change."

He released me and picked up a platinum cufflink from the nightstand — a gift I bought him years ago with my first independent earnings.

“Get dressed, Elena,” he said without turning, his tone holding a post-coital laziness that was utterly devoid of warmth. “Or did my earlier… attentions leave you unable to stand? You must learn to adapt to more efficient service.”

Vincent’s voice, sharp and impatient, came from the wardrobe area.

“Hurry up,” he said, adjusting his tie in the mirror, glancing at my reflection with a smile that was nearly cruel.

“My dear ‘vitality source’. You need to look presentable tonight. After all, you are about to meet a true Lady.”

“ Let’s not have her think the blood attendants I keep are… lacking in polish.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, touching the burning brand.

"Be ready. You will stand beside my seat tonight." He paused at the door. "Remember your place. And your worth."

Then he left without looking back.

I sat up in silence, beginning to gather my scattered clothes.

A walking blood bag is what I was.

My family's rare blood, the only kind that could grant ancient vampires like him temporary tolerance to direct sunlight, was the currency that bought our safety in his territory.

I thought I was someone special to him, but I was just the vessel.

As I dressed, a discreet alert chimed on my encrypted phone. A message from my father in Italy, the current head of the Rossi family.

【Sanguine Crest consolidating power. Alliance secures their northern borders. Your continued blood supply is a stated condition of the pact. Be wary.】

I stared at the screen, the pieces clicking into place.

He wasn't marrying a woman.

He was signing a blood supply contract.

And I was the commodity.

My fingers were steady as I dialed the long-memorized number.

It connected after two rings.

“Papa.”

“Elena!” His voice was tight with surprise and worry.

“In seven days,” I said, my voice clear and final in the dark, “make the name Elena Rossi disappear from this city. From vampire’s world. Forever.”

I turned my phone off.

The moment I severed the connection, a sharp, twisting pain lanced through the Blood Brand on my collarbone.

It was a warning throb, a magical feedback from the covenant Vincent had etched into my very being.

It felt like a leash being pulled taut from the inside. I breathed through the discomfort, focusing on the clean anger that waited beneath the pain.

Let it ache. Soon, it would be gone forever.

At two in the afternoon, the reinforced door to my private studio was ripped from its hinges.

Marcus entered, his expression grim.

Behind him filed four ghouls—their eyes glazed with the compulsive loyalty bought by regular draughts of vampire blood, their movements enhanced to superhuman speed and strength.

They were perfect, soulless instruments of retrieval.

“Miss Rossi,” Marcus’s voice was flat. His hand rested on the hilt of a silver-etched dagger. “The Lord requires your presence. Immediately.”

I didn’t look up from the canvas I was deliberately defacing with streaks of corrosive solvent. “Inform the Lord I am unavailable.”

“This is not optional.”

I laid my tools down and stood. “So he sends his master’s hounds to fetch me. How efficient.”

Marcus didn’t deny it. “Do not resist. It will only cause you distress.”

The ride in the windowless vehicle was silent. The ghouls sat perfectly still, their unblinking eyes fixed ahead, smelling of old blood and chemical obedience.

The car stopped at the grand estate. My former home, now my prison.

I was led not to the state rooms, but to the winter garden solarium,a room of glass and light he had once given me. My sanctuary.

The door opened. I froze.

It was empty.

Utterly, completely void of me. My paintings of sunlit landscapes, my shelves of rare botanical texts, the comfortable chair by the window where I used to read… all gone. Erased.

The space had been transformed. The walls were now a stark, matte black. Sleek, angular furniture made of chromed steel and frosted glass replaced my warm wood. In the center of the main wall hung a massive, hyper-realistic portrait.

It was Lilith, clad in ice-blue satin, her smile serene and utterly possessive.

“Lilith’s taste is transformative, is it not?”

Vincent’s voice came from behind. He was a silhouette of tailored black wool. Lilith clung to his side, a vision of platinum and cold elegance.

“Lilith,” Vincent said, his tone neutral, “this is Elena. The most critical resource of my household.”

Lilith’s pale eyes swept over me, a flicker of assessment beneath her polite smile.

“Vincent has told me so much about your… unique value. He says a lot about your tasty blood, you’re his favorite, huh?” She let the words hang, a veiled reminder of my captivity. “Such a weight to carry.”

“My purpose is to serve,” I replied, my voice a monotone.

Vincent gave a curt nod. He turned, tucking Lilith’s hand into the crook of his arm. “The Elders are waiting.”

I followed them to the great hall, a silent shadow.

The Elder vampires were gathered, their ancient faces impassive.

Elder Thorne, his eyes like chips of obsidian, glanced from me to Vincent.

“Vincent. Your Elena has been a fixture here for a decade. Some of us had begun to speculate about a more… intimate permanence.”

Vincent’s response was swift and cold, cutting through the room. “Elder Thorne. Speculation is beneath you.”

His gaze landed on me, sharp and definitive.

“A blood attendant, no matter how essential, remains a human servant. I do not confuse utility with kinship.”

I dropped my eyes, the public dismissal a fresh brand of its own. “The Elder misunderstands,” I said, forcing a placid tone. “My bond to the Lord is purely one of service.”

For a heartbeat, Vincent’s mask seemed to strain at the edges. Then it solidified.

Lilith’s fingers tightened on Vincent’s arm, a subtle signal of triumph.

As Vincent passed me, his hand lifted slightly—an old, automatic gesture toward me.

It aborted in mid-air. He reached up instead and carefully adjusted a flawless diamond pendant at Lilith’s throat.

He leaned in, his whisper a cold filament against my ear. “Remember your lines. Do not deviate.”

The dinner was an endless procession. I sat isolated at the far end of the long table, watching Vincent and Lilith hold court.

He felt my stare. Turning, he met my eyes across the gulf of the hall.

Slowly, deliberately, he raised his glass of deep ruby liquid—my blood, mixed with wine—in a silent, mocking toast. His expression was one of cold approval.

The approval one gives to a well-maintained tool.

I lifted my own glass of water, meeting his gaze with a perfect, hollow smile.

Keep smiling, Vincent.

The cold glass biting into my palm. Your smile will be the first thing to shatter when I’m gone.

The dinner finally ended. I stood alone in the echoing hall, the taste of ashes in my mouth.

"Elena. You're accompanying us."

Vincent’s voice echoed from the top of the grand staircase.

I looked up. He was helping Lilith into a cloak lined with rare white fur, his hands careful, almost tender, a courtesy he had never extended to me.

The sight was a physical ache.

"Of course," he said, his eyes finding me, cold and flat. "You remain my chief operative. It is time you understood your new primary duty is to her security."

An armored limousine, windows blacked out, idled in the courtyard.

I moved toward the front passenger seat out of long habit.

"The back, Elena," Vincent said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Lilith slipped into the middle row of the spacious vehicle, Vincent following closely.

I was left with the rear bench seat, facing them like an unwelcome spectator.

The city slid by in a blur of darkness. The silence inside the car was oppressive.

After a few minutes, Lilith sighed, a delicate sound. "The gathering with the Elders were so taxing," she murmured, leaning her head against Vincent's shoulder. "And the refreshments at dinner were… lacking in vitality. I feel quite drained."

Vincent was silent for a long moment, staring out the window.

Then, without looking at me, he spoke. “Elena. Your wrist.”

A cold dread seeped into my veins.

In ten years, he had never allowed another to taste my blood. It was intimate, it was possessive.

“Vincent,” I whispered, the protest automatic and weak.

“Do not make me repeat myself.”

Slowly, numb, I pulled back the cuff of my sleeve, exposing my inner forearm.

Lilith watched, her pale eyes now sharp with avid interest.

“Be precise,” he told her softly. “The essence is potent.”

Lilith took the lancet, her movements elegant.

With a faint, almost clinical smile, she pierced a small, precise point on my wrist.

A violent shudder racked my body. It wasn’t the sting of the cut.

It was the profound, soul-deep violation of watching him offer my life, the very substance he guarded so jealously, to her like a passing delicacy.

Lilith leaned back, a sigh of pleasure escaping her lips.

“Truly remarkable,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering. “Like captured dawn. No wonder you kept this human for so long”

Vincent said nothing, merely watching her reaction with a slight, satisfied curve of his mouth. The shared secret, the intimate transaction performed over my body, was a betrayal more complete than any physical blow.

The attack came moments later, as if the universe itself responded to the sacrilege.

A barrage of blessed silver pellets and UV flash grenades shattered the night.

“Ambush! Hunter squad!” Marcus, who was driving, roared, wrenching the wheel.

The heavy car swerved violently.

Lilith screamed, a sound of pure terror, and crumpled against Vincent’s chest.

I reacted on pure instinct, pushing my own devastation aside.

I pulled a pistol loaded with magnesium rounds from hidden holsters, returning fire through the narrow gunport.

Shadows moved with predatory speed in the darkness.

“Get us out!” Vincent shouted, his body curving entirely over Lilith, forming a living shield. His attention was solely on her. “I got you, my heart. You are safe.”

The limousine spun out of control, metal shrieking as it slammed sideways into a concrete bridge support.

Through the cracked window, I saw them.

On the overpass, three figures stood in a firing line.

A sniper’s nest, armed with the one thing that could pierce the car’s armor and poison a vampire’s blood with agonizing, slow corruption.

Time stretched into agony. The first shot rang out, a sharp, high-caliber crack.

The reinforced window where Vincent’s head had been a moment before spider-webbed, a crater of molten glass and metal forming around a buried silver slug.

In that frozen fraction of a second, Vincent made his choice.

He enveloped Lilith completely, pulling them both down below the fortified line of the seats.

Then, with a brutal, deliberate motion, his leg shot out.

His boot connected with the door release mechanism right beside my seat. The damaged door blew outward.

At the same instant, a second shot and a third tore through the cabin.

One ripped through the headrest of the seat I had just occupied. The other grazed the edge of the open doorframe, sending a spray of molten silver shrapnel into the space where I was half-kneeling.

The combined force of the explosion and the impact hurled me.

I landed hard on the asphalt, the breath knocked from my lungs.

A searing pain lanced through my shoulder and side from where several fragments of silver-laced metal had embedded themselves.

The bond that tied me to Vincent, that made my blood valuable, also made me acutely vulnerable to what harmed him.

“No!”

I looked up, gasping, to see Vincent emerge from the opposite side of the smoking vehicle, Lilith cradled against his chest, unharmed.

He didn’t glance at the snipers, nor at me. His only focus was the woman in his arms.

He murmured into her hair, then moved with vampiric swiftness, carrying her away from the wreckage.

He never looked back. Not a glance toward the flaming ruin where I lay broken.

…...

Consciousness returned as a slow, painful tide.

I was in the clan’s subterranean infirmary, the air cold and sterile.

Tubes snaked from my arms—one drawing blood, another feeding it back in vampiric purification cycle meant to accelerate healing.

For a human body, it was exquisite torture.

“You survive, Miss Rossi,” intoned Dr. Aris, the ancient clan physician, as he monitored the machines.

“Marcus grabbed you. You will bear scars from silver bullets, but you are functional.”

“Vincent?” My voice was a ragged whisper.

“The Lord is with Lady Lilith,” he replied, his face a mask of neutrality. “She was… really unsettled by the attack.”

A soundless, bitter laugh choked me.

“The monitor,” I gasped, gesturing weakly.

With a faint sigh, he activated the screen on the wall.

It displayed various secure locations within the estate. My trembling hand found the remote and switched the view to Lilith’s chambers.

She was reclining on a divan, wrapped in silks.

Vincent sat at her side, holding a crystal goblet filled with a deep, familiar crimson.

My blood, drawn fresh, glowing faintly under the soft light.

He was bringing it to her lips, sip by careful sip.

“My fearless love,” she whispered, her hand stroking his jaw. “You saved me. You faced the silver bullets for me.”

“I would let it reduce me to ashes before it touched you,” he vowed, his voice thick with a tenderness that was a knife in my heart.

Then, he drew a small, ornate casket from his pocket. My own heart, battered and bleeding, seemed to stop entirely.

He went down on one knee before her. He opened the casket. Inside, it rested a diamond ring of staggering size and antiquity.

“Lilith,” he said, looking up at her, his entire being laid bare in that gaze—vulnerable, ardent, true.

“Bind your eternity to mine. Not for alliance, or power, or legacy. Marry me… because my endless nights were empty until you. I love you.”

Lilith’s hands flew to her mouth.

“Yes,” she breathed, the word a promise. “For all eternity, yes.”

He slid the ring onto her finger, sealing the vow with a kiss.

I stared at the screen until the image dissolved into static.

So, he was capable of this.

He was capable of sacred vows, of tender care, of self-sacrifice.

He simply reserved all of it for her. And he had used my body as a shield, my blood as a courting gift.

He just don’t think I’m worth of it.